Can I Have This Dance?
by Geek for God
Summary: Steve finally tries to make peace with his past. With a little help from Google. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Can I Have This Dance?**

"Tony, what's a Wii?" Steve Rogers stared at the small, white machine in wonder.

Tony Stark rolled his eyes and let out a breath of air. Sure, he felt a little bad for the kid, knowing it must be hard to wake up seventy years in the future, but did he _really_ have to ask so many dumb questions? "Google it, Cap."

Steve looked up, his face a mask of confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tony beat him to it. "Google is a . . . um . . ." _How do I explain this in primitive man speech?_ "It's like a dictionary on the computer. But it stores more info than any dictionary. You type in _anything,_ and Google will know what it is, where to find it, and whether or not it's illegal." _Not that I pay much attention to that part,_ he added silently in his head.

Tony quickly guided the wide-eyed Captain to his computer next to the desk and showed him how the search engine worked.

Satisfied that the rest of his day would be question-free, Tony turned to walk away. And visibly winced when Steve said, "Tony?"

"What?" Tony asked, trying to keep cool and not blast his fellow Avenger's head off. Wouldn't want bad publicity and whatnot.

"Uh . . . can you look people up on Google, too?"

Tony nearly shouted for joy when he heard the simple question. "Yes." He then grabbed a drink from his personal bar and watched Steve surreptitiously. He couldn't help it - he was curious.

But he'd barely gotten comfortable in one of the stools when suddenly Steve bolted from the chair. He grabbed his tan jacket and practically flew through the front door.

Tony raised one eyebrow. _What the heck? _he thought as he abandoned his drink and walked toward the computer. He browsed through the History on it, raising his _other_ eyebrow when he found the last thing typed into Google.

-This-is-a-line-

Steve stopped in front of the large double doors, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd been mentally preparing himself on the way here, but now that he actually _was_ here he didn't know if he could do this.

_You're Captain America, _he told himself sternly. _You can do this._

Slowly, he pushed the doors open.

The blindingly white walls were the first things he noticed when he stepped into the building. A few people sat in the hard chairs off to the side, but he ignored them and walked straight for the large desk with the brown-haired receptionist behind it.

Steve told the lady who he was here to see, and she gave him a quick, tight smile. "It's good you came now, sir. She's starting to fade, and no one visits her anymore."

Steve tried to not look too surprised. "What, no kids?"

The nurse shook her head. "She never married." Then she directed the Avenger to the patient's room, giving him a pat on the arm. "In case you didn't know," she said quietly, "she was quite sick several years before, and the fever nearly took her life. Luckily she lived through it, but she became blind because of it." She turned around and walked back toward her desk.

Steve took a hesitant step into the hospital room, unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. A small, frail woman easily in her nineties lay on a hospital bed, her sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. Her white, curly hair was cropped to her ears, but Steve still recognized her. How could he not, when she filled his dreams every night?

As Steve stepped forward again, her head snapped toward the door, her blind eyes gazing straight at him. "Who is it?" she called out in a tired voice.

Steve's throat clogged. She sounded so . . . weary. Not at all like the way he remembered her. "Peggy," he managed to croak.

Peggy instantly stilled. "No one's called me that in . . . decades." Steve didn't say anything, content to just stare at her, to relish in the fact that she was alive.

Suddenly she started hacking and coughing, grating sounds that shouldn't have been coming from her delicate throat.

Steve was at her side in an instant, his hand gripping hers. "Well," she said once her fit was over. "Whoever you are, you came just in time. I think I'm almost gone."

A tear escaped Steve's eye and trickled onto his chin. "Actually, some people think I'm late." A tiny sob shook his body, but he ignored it. "Like always."

Peggy's grip on his hand tightened. A shaky smile adorned her face. "I . . . knew a man once. A long, long time ago. He was always late . . ." her smile vanished, replaced by tears and confusion in her eyes. "And I never got to show him something . . . I don't remember what it was . . . but it was important."

Steve could feel more tears sliding down his cheeks. "Maybe you can still show him." He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "He found the right partner, Peggy, but he missed his chance."

Peggy smiled again. "You know, you remind me of someone," she whispered quietly. "Oh, dear, I can't quite recall his name . . . ."

The beeping of the machine next to her bed was growing fainter, and for some reason Steve knew that that was bad. "Peggy," he said in a thick voice. "Can you promise me something?" He didn't wait for a reply. "When we see each other again . . . will you teach me how to dance?"

Peggy had closed her eyes. "Fine," she said after a moment of silence. The beeping noise had almost dwindled to nothing by now. Then, with a faint smile, she said, "But you better not be late, Captain." The pale hand in his went limp, and her head rolled to the side, still smiling.

Steve rested his elbows on the bed, holding onto her hand like it was a lifeline as sobs racked his body. "I won't be, Peggy," he vowed to the unmoving body. "I won't be."


	2. Chapter 2

**Just for the record, this started out as a one-shot, but my reviewers wanted another chapter so I thought, "What the heck?" Sorry if it's not very good, but I was totally not planning on a second chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Avengers._ If I did, Thor and Captain America would get their shirts burnt off mysteriously in every single fight. And Phil would be brought back to life.**

Tony shifted his position in the armchair facing the front door and glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. Steve had been out for almost seven hours. Where the heck was he?

After he'd seen the name Steve had typed into Google, he'd known she was probably a private, personal thing in the Captain's past, so he'd restrained himself and not researched every possible thing he could about her.

For the first five minutes.

Then he'd gotten bored.

So he'd had JARVIS find out everything he could about the mysterious woman. What he'd found had shocked him. Not only was this woman connected to Steve, but she had also associated with Howard Stark. His father.

Intrigued, he had dug even deeper into her past. Apparently, she was currently in a hospital only a half-hour's drive from his house. It didn't take Einstein (or Dr. Banner) to figure out where Steve had gone.

The sound of the doorknob turning slowly caused Tony to nearly jump from his skin. _Settle down,_ he told himself irritably. Then he crossed one leg over the other, hoping he looked menacing. He wanted answers, and he wanted them _now._

Steve obviously didn't notice him when he first stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. But when he turned to walk up the stairs he let out an unmanly yelp as he caught sight of the glowering Tony. "Oh, um, hi," Steve stammered, his face flushing.

Tony continued giving him the Evil Stare of Death. "Hello, Steve."

Steve looked uncomfortable under the careful scrutiny. He started to walk up the stairs, but he froze at Tony's next words.

"So . . . Margaret Carter."

The Captain tried to appear unfazed, but Tony could hear the tension in his voice as he asked, "What about her?"

Tony shrugged carelessly. "Oh, I don't know. I was just curious about your connection to her."

Steve whipped around to face him. "Peggy was a great soldier. She knew what needed to be done and did it. She was the best at encouraging other people. She -" he stopped and bowed his head, his hands clenching into fists. "She was an amazing friend."

The nickname for Ms. Carter didn't pass unnoticed by Tony, but for once he didn't make a smart-aleck comment about it, because he also noticed how Steve referred to her in the past tense.

Awkward silence followed Steve's outburst, in which Tony struggled to come up with something to say and Steve didn't move from his position on the stairs.

Finally Tony blurted out, "You don't have to go through this alone."

Steve raised his head, his blue eyes filled with confusion. That was when Tony realized he must have been crying recently, because the skin around his eyes was red and puffy. "What do you mean?" he asked in a broken voice.

Tony was suddenly filled with compassion for the other man. Steve hadn't asked to be thrown seventy years into the future. He hadn't asked to lose everyone he'd ever cared about. Heck, he hadn't even asked to be the poster-boy for America. Looking at the vulnerable, open man before him, Tony didn't see Captain America, a resourceful fighter and hero of the world. He saw Steve Rogers, a young, frightened boy who'd just lost everyone he'd ever cared about and had been thrust into a world he'd never even imagined existed.

Tony coughed, a little embarrassed. _You're getting soft, old man,_ he chided himself. "I know – I know what it's like to lose someone you care about." Steve stiffened, but Tony ignored the body movement and pressed on. "You're confused and lost, and maybe even frightened, but you hide it all from everyone. Because people are depending on you, right?" Tony couldn't stop the bitterness that leaked into his voice. "People are looking to you for guidance and are using you as a role model. You can't show them what's _really_ going on in your head. You have to plaster a smile on your face and tell the world that you're fine." He waited for the words to sink in before adding in a whisper, "But you're not."

Steve sat himself heavily on the stairs, his eyes squeezed shut. "I keep asking myself, 'Why them?' Why them and not me?" A tear slid down his cheek. "They didn't deserve the war. They didn't deserve anything that happened to them." He was crying now, but he didn't seem to notice. "Bucky – he was a better person than me. He was a better _fighter,_ even! He always knew how to make people smile, and he knew just what to say to get a girl to fall for him." He brushed the tears away angrily. "The only reason he died that day was because some doctor injected me with the serum instead of him, when he was the one who should've gotten it in the first place!"

Tony was at a loss for words. He had no experience whatsoever dealing with crying people. Let alone crying _superheroes._

"And Peggy," Steve continued quietly, his rage suddenly gone. "I left her. All alone. Did you know," he looked up at Tony, a small, cruel smile on his face and eyes that were filled with sorrow, "that she never got married? Was that my fault? Had she been waiting for me?"

"Stop it," Tony said forcefully. "Stop that right now."

Steve was startled into silence.

Once Tony was sure he had his attention, he stood up and walked over to him, sitting next to him on the stair. _Here goes nothing._ "Steve, you are a great guy. The doctor who put the serum in you obviously knew what he was doing. You're willing to give your life for people you've just met. But you _cannot_ go blaming yourself for your friends' deaths. They were _not. Your. Fault._" Tony looked Steve straight in the eye. "Quit dwelling on their deaths. Remember their _life._ Remember the things that made them laugh, the things that made them cry. Remember the times you had with them and the things you said to them. Be thankful they were put in your life, instead of hating yourself for that very same reason." Tony took a deep breath, and his next words sounded like they were being choked out. _Hold it together._ "Steve, they were blessed to have you in their life. So stop telling yourself that you were the worst thing that could have happened to them. And every once in a while, you're allowed to cry for them. You're not being a sissy for giving the people you love your tears."

Okay, as much as he loved touchy-feely moments, this was getting pretty intense. He'd never said anything this personal since . . . who knows when. He was just starting to edge away when a hand grabbed his arm. He turned to see Steve looking up at him with clear, solemn eyes. "Thank you, Tony," he whispered.

Tony only nodded, afraid if he tried to speak he'd turned into a blubbering baby.

He had an image to keep, after all.


End file.
